


Running With The Wolves

by Purplesauris



Series: Beroya and Jetii [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Din Djarin, Competence Kink, Din goes on a hunt, Established Relationship, Luke gets his SCHOOL dammit, M/M, Milla - Freeform, Minor Original Character(s), Pain Kink, Pavru, Prompt Fill, This is an AU, Tillie - Freeform, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, and Arlo, and the other 8 i haven't named, didn't think so, introducing Din's foundlings, is this a surprise, let Din get railed 2k21, obviously, really it's very loving smut i promise, they're both switches and no one will ever change my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29668419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplesauris/pseuds/Purplesauris
Summary: Din has found a home, a clan, and a husband on the remote moon of Yavin IV. Now, he's left to protect it, and to protect against those who want to harm them. (and also maybe, to enjoy having a home to go back to, with a husband waiting.)
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Series: Beroya and Jetii [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187339
Comments: 30
Kudos: 295





	Running With The Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for Jack, AKA Deathvatch over on tumblr. Check her out, she's funny as hell and indulged me A LOT with her prompts <3.

Pavru’s orange face is ruddy with anger.

Din watches the petulant, angry way that she crosses her arms, expression stormy, and bites back a heaving sigh. “It’s only a scouting mission, Ru.”

“Then let me come! Master Luke gets to come and he-”

“Is a fully trained Jedi.” If it’s possible, her expression grows worse, arms crossing so tight that Din wonders how her shoulders haven’t popped yet. Din’s own expression softens in understanding, and this time he doesn’t stop the sigh that flows past his lips. He knows her too well, knows what she’s thinking, and he opens his arms, waiting. 

She’s about as adverse to unwanted touches as Din is, but still she takes one look at him offering and shudders. Din’s heart breaks to see the sadness, the fear lingering in her eyes, and when she comes forward, thin orange arms coming up, Din hoists her up into his arms. She’s a bit big to be held like this, but her arms move to thread around his neck and he wouldn’t stop this for the world. He knows that his beskar isn’t the most comfortable or welcoming material, but Pavru doesn’t seem to mind, and clings tighter to him when he shifts slightly, rocking the two of them. 

One hand comes up to gently pet over her hair, smoothing the wild waves away from her face and carefully skirting around the horns protruding from her head. 

“ _ Cyar’Ru, _ I’ll come back.” His voice is soft, unchanged by his lack of helmet, and he hardly catches when she sniffles.

“What if you don’t?” Her voice is thick, choked by tears, and Din shushes her gently, petting over her hair again. “What if you go away, and only Master Luke comes back?”

“I’d be pretty upset he left me behind.” Din tries to lighten the mood a little, though his tone is too serious to be taken as a joke. Pavru’s shoulders jump, and despite her own fears, Din hears a small giggle. Din isn’t nearly as good at cheering people up, or at making jokes, but he tries, for Pavru’s sake. “Between you and me?”

“Hm?” That’s caught her attention, and Din gives her a little squeeze. 

“ _ I _ think he just wants an excuse to hold my hand.” The zabrak girl pauses, considering, and then blows a very exaggerated raspberry over Din’s shoulder. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

Din’s heart lightens when she laughs, and he sets the girl down, trying his best to smile reassuringly, and not like he’s forgotten how to do it. Pavru doesn’t seem to mind his somewhat lopsided smile, and Din feels like his heart could burst out of his chest when she stretches up to bump her forehead against his before he can straighten up from setting her down. She takes off running, having had enough conversation it seems, but she pauses in the doorway, eyes bright and face determined. “You come back, or I’ll follow you.”

Din laughs, and goes to find Luke to tell him that he’s ready to go.

\--

Din is still trying to think of a way that he could help Pavru with her worries when he stumbles on a root, a hand catching him by the elbow to right him before he goes sprawling. He blinks, focusing back in on his surroundings, and stares resolutely at the trees instead of his husband’s grinning face.

“You’re distracted again.” Din huffs out something like a protest, but Luke’s hand is still warm on his elbow, even through the layers of his flight suit, and he glances once at Luke’s face before turning back, cheeks flaming. Thank the stars he has his helmet on so that Luke can’t see. “It’s just a scouting mission.”

“I’m not worried about the mission.” He replies, shoving through a tangle of vines and holding them up for Luke to duck under. Even with the careful climate control his suit provides, sweat still slicks the back of his neck as the humid heat of the jungle presses around them. Din had hoped this mission would allow them to take the speeder, but the trees were too thick and they’d left it half a mile back, electing to walk. 

Din can tell, through whatever bond they’ve formed or just because he knows Luke, that the other man has a hundred questions at the tip of his tongue. Instead of voicing them though, Luke only intones thoughtfully, hand slipping from his elbow to link their fingers together. Abruptly, Din is reminded of his little joke with Pavru, and a small smile tugs at his lips. Luke makes that same noise again, louder this time, and this time he speaks. 

“She wanted to come, didn’t she?”

“She’s worried I won’t come back.” Luke is quiet beside him, and Din finds himself wanting to explain. He knows how the Jedi used to be about attachments, even if Luke is different. “She doesn’t have anyone else and-”

“Din, you don’t have to fight for her to be here.” Something worried settles in Din’s heart, some small niggling that had been eating at him, and he glances over to find Luke smiling at him. Always, always smiling, even when things come crashing down. “She’s gone through a lot- it just takes time.”

Din clears his throat, awkward at having worked himself up for nothing, but Luke bumps his shoulder against Din’s pauldron, face softening into something fond and adoring. Din speaks without thinking, heart thudding in his chest. “I love you.”

Luke’s face lights up like the sun, and they stop in the middle of the jungle, Luke grabbing hold of his chestplate and dragging him down until their foreheads come together and Din’s eyes close behind the helmet. “I love you too.”

They stand there for a moment more, basking in having a silent moment to themselves before Din is itching to move again, to finish what they came here to do and then go back home. Luke seems to feel the same, because he drops his hand and looks up at Din expectantly, allowing himself to be led as Din picks his way through the dense undergrowth, following a path that only the advanced readout from his helmet makes possible. Bootprints left in the dirt, leaves torn and knocked askew- Din can see all of those on his own, but his visor catches more- the exact tread in the dirt, the fact that there are at least three people they’re following.

They’d gotten a tip from a town about two hours out from the academy- temple- whatever Luke had called it when Din took one step inside and promptly forgot- that there were raiders in the forest. At first Din hadn’t been too worried- their little covert was too tucked away to be found, too inconspicuous to be seen as a lucrative endeavor, but when he’d woken up one night with dread crawling through him and found Luke asleep but sitting up, mumbling to himself about an attack, Din had taken action. He’d gone to the town two hours away, had talked to them, and found out where the raiders were operating from. 

And then he’d spent the last week stalking the camp just to learn about the rotation of the guards, when they liked to drink the heaviest and when they were the most alert. He’d gotten as much information as he could, and then once he was sure that he could handle it- was stopped by Luke with a very disapproving frown and a hand held out for Din’s rifle. Luke had insisted that they go together, to do one last scouting mission with Luke in hand to feel out anything amiss that Din might not have been able to see or hear, and Din had grumbled for all of two seconds before Luke had whittled him down with a pleading look and a tilt of his head. 

Din is such a sucker for him.

He's still thinking about Luke's sad little pout when Luke yanks him behind a tree, presses his back against the bark, and pins him there. Traitorously, Din can feel heat lick down his spine at Luke having yanking him around like a doll, and Din watches, stupefied for a moment as Luke presses their bodies harder together and uses the bulk of his form to cover the muted purple reflections coming off of Din's armor. The heat recedes immediately at the realization, and he listens as feet traverse the underbrush near them, voices floating on the wind. They draw closer and closer to where they're hiding, close enough that Din cocks his wrist to ready his whistling birds as Luke fans out his cloak and desperately covers him. Miraculously, the voices begin to fade away again, and Din moves his wrist, drawing the whistling birds back.

It isn't until the voices disappear completely that Luke drops the folds of his cloak, letting out a shaky breath as Din shifts underneath Luke's weight. The heat comes roaring back when Luke's eyes snap toward him, wide and pupils pinpoints, and one of Luke's thighs slots between his for a moment, further pinning him. Luke's hands flutter over his chest plate and Din watches, stuck by the nimbleness as he traces over the heart. "That was close. You're too bright for recon."

"Never had a problem before." Din utters, swallowing around the lump in his throat when Luke's thigh presses up and up, putting more pressure on him until Din is almost squirming against him on base instinct alone. Luke glances up at him again, head tilting, and a groan falls from Din's lips when Luke's thigh drops away and he sags against the sudden need for his legs to hold his own weight. 

"Let's go, see if we can find what we're looking for." 

Din's voice is only mildly choked as he agrees. "Right."

They're much, much more cautious traversing the forest now, and Din is on high alert, audio turned up to hear even the faintest of noises. It takes him a moment to drown out the steady drum of Luke's heartbeat, but once he does he can hear quiet chattering, and he holds a hand up to stop them. Luke looks at him, curious, and Din gestures up toward the treetops. Understanding blooms across Luke's face, and he goes for the nearest tree, scaling it with relative ease as Din watches from below. The sight of Luke's hands grasping branches, arms flexing, shouldn't do what it does to Din, and he has to shake himself before going to the next tree over and beginning his own ascent. It's harder without the jetpack, and Din has to be careful of which branches will hold him, but soon he's cloaked in the violet leaves, staring down at the small encampment of raiders. 

Around them, scattered and almost forgotten, are their spoils. They're obviously not planning on being here long term, because a small carrier freight has been squeezed into the clearing they found, and the back ramp is open. They're loading the scattered crates and bags and trinkets they've stolen, and Din hears the quiet shuffle of leaves as Luke goes flying, landing nimbly on the branch near him and pressing so close to his side that he shivers. Din imagines he can feel Luke's lips brushing over his ear, but he's got the helmet on, and he nearly winces just at the volume of Luke's whisper.

"This is it?" Luke sounds almost disappointed, and Din holds back a snort, though he does roll his eyes.

"Told you I could handle it." He murmurs back, head tilting when Luke's breath hitches.

There's a pregnant pause before Luke whispers. "Then handle it."

And that's all the permission that Din needs. 

He nudges Luke back away from him, and using whatever branches he can, descends back to the forest floor, dropping the last few feet and landing with hardly a sound. He turns the audio receptors down again, until he can no longer hear Luke’s heartbeat or his breathing, and creeps slowly through the remaining tree cover. He counts the people in the clearing- six to one. 

His heart leaps in his chest, and he pauses, palming the blaster at his hip and deciding. A blaster is easy, one shot to take down, and Din funnily enough, wants this to last. He wants to send a message to anyone else. So instead he draws the beskar spear from his back, letting the tip drag in the dirt as he breaks the treeline. No one notices him at first, not until the sun gleams off of his pauldron, but by then it’s too late-

Din dips into an effortless lunge, spear an extension of his body as he lashes out, taking the first one by surprise. Din feels the resistance of the sharp tip entering the raider’s throat, and not much more as he pulls back, letting the man crumple. A shot pings off his shoulder, metal ringing, and Din ducks and spins, feet sliding through the dirt as he allows the spear to slide through his hand, caught right at the end as the head slams into a blaster, knocking it from the raider’s hand. 

They’ve all begun to converge, standing just far enough that reaching with his spear is hard, but Din is a blur of movement, even in his armor. The sun, the purple of the trees, and the red of the blaster shots reflect off of his armor, throwing colors around the clearing as Din guts one man who dared to get too close, teeth bared behind his helmet. Four more. Din loses himself in the fight, in the aching pressure of shots ringing against his beskar and the racing of his heart. Once the raiders realize their guns won’t do much, not with Din so cloaked in beskar, they go for knives, as if that will help.

It brings them in closer, in range of Din’s spear, but he leaves it lodged in one of the raiders' chest after carefully tucking it under an arm to catch the man charging at his back. Din’s whole body jerks with the impact, but he lets the spear and the raider fall away, and while he’s crouched, draws the vibro blade from his boot. They want a knife fight? They can have a knife fight. 

The blade is a familiar weight in his hand, the same extension of his body as any other weapon. He takes one man down in a vicious slash and leaves the other bleeding in the dirt with a stab wound to the gut. It won’t be fatal, not immediately, but that isn’t Din’s concern, not now. Now, his only concern is the last raider left, the one who’s been hanging back, content to let the others fight. Din stops, tilting his head, blood coating his blade and his hand, and he allows the man to taunt him.

He allows the man to say whatever he likes about his beskar, his lack of morals. He allows him to sneer and try to goad him into attacking. All the while he stands completely still, waiting. Watching. Din is ready the instant that the man’s arm jerks up, though he isn’t expecting the man’s blade to go flying. He tucks his head to the right on instinct, tucking his helmet down, but he isn’t quick enough and the blade cuts through the fabric at his neck, catching on his flight suit, and Din is dropping down without a thought.

He collapses into the dirt, lays there, and when the man comes to stand over him, he reaches to neatly slice through the tendon at his ankle, sending him careening to the ground as Din rolls on top of him, blade at his throat. 

“Wait- wait please- we can share the spoils!”

“It isn’t  _ yours _ .” Din says, as if he hasn’t stolen before, as if he hasn’t done worse. As if there aren’t five dead people around him, laying in pools of their own blood. “You’re going to unload everything from your ship. You’re going to go back to whatever shit hole you lived on before, and you’re going to tell people to  _ stay away _ .”

The man underneath him swallows, skin nicking against Din’s blade, debating, and Din feels him tense at the same time he gives his answer. The man arches up, tearing his throat against Din’s blade, and Din jerks back as blood sprays over the front of his helmet, painting his vision with droplets of red. He stands up, staggers off of the man choking on his own blood, and mechanically wipes his vibroblade on the fabric of his flight suit before shoving it back into his boot. 

He’s still staring down at the ground, watching the drops slide down his visor when Luke joins him, standing in front of him quietly. Din catches Luke’s movement, but he isn’t prepared for the way that the fingers of Luke’s left hand find the spot on Din’s neck, between helmet and cape, sliding over the small strip of skin left there. He jerks back without thinking, breath rushing out of him in a pained noise, and both of Luke’s hands go up as Din lifts his head to look at him.

Worry etches its place on Luke’s face, tugging the corners of his mouth down and darkening his eyes as he tilts his head. “I’m sorry, I was just- checking if you were hurt.”

“It’s fine.” Din chokes out, bringing a hand up to tug self consciously at the torn fabric, to cover that small strip of skin. “We should return this.”

Din gestures to all of the stuff around them, though he has no clue how to figure out who it belongs to. He doesn’t, but Luke does, and Din watches as his eyes roll before slipping shut, brow faintly pinched and hands still held in the air like an afterthought. Slowly the items strewn in the grass begin to float, sorting themselves into seemingly random groupings. Only once all of the items have been accounted for, some drifting from the ship itself, does Luke’s eyes open again, lashes fluttering as he sways on his feet. 

Din catches him before he can topple, though he’s covered in blood, and he watches, anxiety building in his gut as Luke looks around sightlessly for a moment before finally latching onto him. His face goes soft, a smile turning his lips up, and Din releases a pent up breath. “Hey.” He whispers, voice hoarse.

“Hi.” Luke replies, smile growing. “Most of the stuff was taken from the town. Give me a minute, I can load the ship.” 

“You just took everything  _ off _ the ship.” Din points out, Luke laughing and gently extracting himself from Din’s supportive hold. Luke’s hands waver where they’ve dropped to his sides, and his fingers twitch as all the stuff, the food and supplies and valuables are floated back  _ into _ the ship. Din watches it all with something like awe- he’s spent over a year with Luke, with Grogu and Pavru and all his other foundlings, surrounded by what they can do. Witnessing it every day,  _ feeling _ it at night when Luke wakes up from a vision, sometimes screaming, sometimes crying, and sometimes mumbling. 

All this exposure, and Din is still blown away by the power that emanates from his husband. 

Once the ship is loaded, everything tucked away, Din goes to grab his spear, yanking it from the man’s chest and wiping the gore on his shirt. It goes back into place on his back as he joins Luke on the ramp going up into the cargo bay. Din has been inside one of these before, knows he has, and he makes his way to the cockpit, Luke trailing behind him without a care in the world. The cockpit is cramped, more so than even the  _ Razor Crest _ is, but the pilot’s seats are in okay condition and Din goes for the one on the left on instinct. A hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks, and Din turns to see Luke raising a brow. 

“I want the left.”

“Does it matter?” Din grumbles, Luke laughing and nudging his way past to take the left seat. He holds up his right hand, waggling the fingers, and Din rolls his eyes. “That’s not an excuse.”

“Sure it is.” Luke says, voice sweet and smug all in one. Din rolls his eyes, surely not for the last time, and sinks down into the right seat, glancing around at the control to familiarize himself before the engines are roaring to a start with a few flipped switches and pressed buttons. “Ready, love?”

Warmth blooms in Din’s chest at the pet name, the same way it has since Luke got comfortable enough to use them, and Din’s hands fall to the yokes in front of him, nodding once. Luke doesn’t wait for a verbal response, humming happily and easing them from the ground. The ship is bigger, heavier in Din’s hands than he’s used to, but each tiny shift of Luke’s hand, each tug or press on the yokes plays in Din’s, and Din slowly relaxes into the feeling of being a copilot. Of carrying the weight of the ship in tandem with the person beside him. 

They rise above the clearing, higher and higher until they’re sweeping over the trees, watching as purple bleeds into green, mingling the further they get from their valley. When the ship jitters, needing adjustment, Din reaches on instinct, hand colliding with Luke’s and head snapping up as they pause, both having gone for the same thing. Luke laughs, drawing his hand back, and Din flips the small lever, the ship stabilizing as Luke’s right hand goes back to the yoke. Din’s fingers tingle from the brief contact, and he can feel himself grinning like a fool in his helmet. 

The flight is unsurprisingly short, and when they land the ship Din thinks for one delirious moment that he can  _ feel _ Luke. That he can feel the exact moment that Luke decides they’re slow enough to land, and he reacts in time, reaching to flip a series of switches for the landing gear, one hand tight around the yoke as Luke takes the brunt of the ship’s weight. 

“Easy.” Din cautions, though he doesn’t need to, has never needed to worry about how Luke pilots. Luke seems to appreciate the sentiment of worry though, lips flashing in a small smile that breaks the concentrated look on his face as they finally touch down. Din powers the engines down, both relieved and sad to go, and turns to find Luke staring, a wistful smile on his face. “What?” Din asks, tilting his head when the smile grows melancholic.

“I’d have liked to fly a y wing with you. See you in the pilot’s seat while I gunned.”

Din’s breath rushes out of him in one great whoosh at the thought of Luke, clad in a flight suit, lit up by the stars, sat in the gunner’s seat while Din piloted. His voice is scratchy, hoarse, and he almost finds it in himself to feel embarrassed by the way he says “Yeah?”

Luke’s expression warms into something else entirely, tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip as Din tracks the movement. “Mhm.” 

Din doesn’t have any more time to think of Luke’s hands around the controls, face stony with the same familiar concentration Din is used to. He doesn’t have time to think about the way he wants to tear his helmet off and- 

Luke clears his throat very pointedly, cheeks pink, and Din’s stupor breaks. 

Din takes a moment to collect himself and his thoughts as Luke goes to talk to the town, to show that it’s them, and not the raiders about to do something very, very strupid. By the time that Din ambles his way down the ramp, thoughts finally somewhat clear, they scatter again when everyone one around him stops, hands flying to cover their mouths, eyes widening and murmurs jittering through the crowd. Confusion momentarily twists in Din until he catches the flashes of red on his visor, and he glances down at himself, making a quiet little sound of recognition. 

He’s covered in blood, beskar coated in it, and Din has to force himself not to hide his gore speckled hands. He…. Probably should have stayed in the ship. He looks like a nightmare like this, and he grimaces, glancing up to find Luke looking exasperated but fond. Like he'd forgotten that Din was covered in blood too. 

A voice rises above the crowd. "Did you kill them?"

"I did." There's no use in lying, not with the evidence splattered across him, but to Din's confusion and Luke's delight people cheer, as if Din is a saviour and not a hunter intent on his prey. It makes Din feel…. Weird, being praised for killing, but he supposes that's no different than his bounty hunting. Back then he knew it was platitudes to stay on his good side, before Karga really knew him, but this- this is sincere in a way that Din doesn't know how to handle. 

Luke draws their attention away from Din, speaking in low tones to the de facto leader of the town. Din in the meantime, retreats back into the ship, and stays there, pointing out what they've brought back for them to take. He stays in the ship until finally they've unloaded everything, and only once Luke comes to get him does he move from his stiff position, arms crossed and leant against the wall. 

"They're giving us a ride back to the speeder, so we can get back before dark. I said they could have the ship."

Din grunts, shoving away from the wall and carefully keeping his hands away from Luke's clothes. "We don't need it anyway."

Luke hums, head tilting at Din's mood, but doesn't say a word. He only snags his arm around Din's, careful of the blood, and stays stuck firmly to his side in the speeder and only pulls away to pilot their  _ own _ speeder back to the covert. The longer that Din sits still, that he idles the more his body begins to ache, and by the time they cruise around the bend, flying a meter above the river at the bottom of the valley his shoulders are so stiff he isn't sure he's going to be able to get his armor off. He doesn't worry about it as the sight of their home comes into view- surrounded by vibrant purple Massassi trees, their covert is something of a work of art. Din doesn't know how long Luke had worked at it before finally bringing anyone, but it's a marvel to look at now. Along the riverbank, high on stilts are simple, unobtrusive houses made of mostly wood. The roofs slant heavily, sharp peaks rising into the air, but the open porches and bridges hanging between each house brings with it the feeling of a community. 

Already, Din can see the children pouring out from the central dining hall, crowding around the fence and watching as they drive up the steep embankment to where the  _ Razor Crest _ and the x-wing sit, far away from any potential for water. Din has to fight to throw himself up and over the side of the speeder, and Luke takes one look at him before plastering to his side, not quite holding him up, but relieving some of the pressure from Din's muscles. 

"I should go wash off first." Din mutters, if only to spare them the sight of him bloody. 

"Too late. Let them see you before you disappear, or you'll have a crowd of kids at our door." Luke smiles up at him and Din sighs, knowing he's right. They walk the length of the bridge stretching between the landing pad and the first cluster of houses- these houses are mostly bunks, two children to a house until it gets more crowded, and another bridge brings them to the main hall, where they eat and gather for meditation in the morning. 

Din has barely gotten his feet back onto solid, not swaying wood before children crowd around them, chattering up a storm and vying for attention. He reaches up without a thought, slipping off his helmet to lessen the effect of him covered in gore, and tucks it under one arm as they stare up at him, instantly at ease at the sight of his face unharmed.

"Mr. Din, why are you covered in blood?"

"There was a fight."

"Did you win?" Din chuckles softly, dipping his head in a nod.

"Yes." That gets him more cheering, and this time Din knows something of how he's supposed to react. He feels himself smiling as he shakes his head, and he drops into a crouch, letting whoever he wants crowd around him while the others go to bug Luke. Milla and Arlo, the twi'lek siblings gravitate toward him, as does little Grogu, who grunts unhappily when Din tells him to be patient and wait until he isn't dirty. Milla picks the little child up to placate him, and Din smiles gratefully at her. Pavru lingers on the edge of the crowd, yellow eyes fire bright with relief and fingers twisting together nervously in front of her. 

"Was it a hard fight?"

"No, not really. I've handled much, much worse."

"Did they hurt you?" Little Arlo chimes in, dark eyes wide. He shakes his head, holding back the fact that his entire body aches from the impact of blaster shots against his armor. 

"Nothing I can't handle. Have you guys eaten?"

Arlo and Milla give twin nods, though Grogu peeks up at the mention of food. "Tillie cooked!"

"What did she cook?"

"Sum'thin good!" Din finds himself smiling again as he forces himself to stand, and he tugs his bloody gloves off, tucking them into his waistband and holding a hand out for Milla. The sun has fully set by now, and though they've just gotten home he can tell the kids are tired.

"Did you leave any for us?"

Milla's grin is sweet as sugar as she plays with the cords wrapping around one of the lekku coming from her head. "Nope!"

"Ah, we get to fend for ourselves?" Milla nods, as if it makes perfect sense, and Din smiles. He's glad they're not hoarding food anymore, so even if Luke and him have to find something later he can manage. He turns toward the children's area, pausing and holding a hand out for Pavru. She jolts, as if struck by the thought that Din remembered her, and she's quick to hurry to his side, gripping his hand tight and not letting go even when Din crouches to bump his forehead against Milla's and then Arlo's, sending them to bed and carefully taking Grogu into his now free arm. 

Once they're alone, or relatively so Pavru speaks, voice wobbling. "You really didn't get hurt? You aren't lying?"

"I'm sore." Din admits, mostly because if he doesn't and she spots him tomorrow nursing his muscles she's going to call him on it. "But not hurt, no."

"Did you tell me it was a scouting mission so I wouldn't worry?" Already she's devilishly clever, but Din shakes his head, suppressing a smile.

"It  _ was _ a scouting mission. We just decided to handle it."

Pavru grumbles, but he seems to have appeased her for the time being, and when they stop by her little shack, the only one person home in the community, she reaches for Grogu. Din hesitates, raising a brow, and Pavru grumbles again, reaching more insistently and scooping Grogu into her arms when Din relents. "I like having him here."

"Even with his snoring?" Din teases, Pavru's cheeks flushing as she sticks her tongue out. He smiles down at her, reaching to tug lightly on a lock of white-gold hair as he dips to bump their foreheads together. "If you need us-"

"I won't. 'Night da- Din." His heart leaps in his chest at the near slip, but he doesn't press her. Instead he bumps their foreheads again before straightening up and half turning to go.

"Sleep well,  _ cyar'ru _ ." 

Din waits for her to duck inside and close the door before turning back toward their house. They hadn't thought much about it when they'd settled, but the house is across the way, on the opposite side of where the children sleep. Something distinctly slimy had crawled through Din at not being close to the younger children, but Tillie, their oldest, was good about keeping the peace, and corralling them when they got to be too much. It gave Luke and him a needed break, and Din wonders not for the first time if he'd be any good at parenting without Luke or anyone else here to support him.

The house is dark when he ducks inside, maneuvering through it on memory alone to the refresher. His first line of business is scrubbing his armor and himself clean, and he strips out of it mechanically, hissing when his shoulders and chest protest any sort of strenuous lifting. The armor is left in a careful heap on the inside curve of the chestplate, and Din leaves it on the closed lid of the toilet as he peels his flight suit off while the shower starts up. Din inspects the suit closely and finds a tear in the neck, right where the rider's blade had struck. Any closer and it might've cut all the way through the fabric and found the soft expanse of his neck. Din pauses at that thought, eyes flicking to find his reflection in the mirror. 

His face, as familiar and unfamiliar as it is, is unmarred. He has no bruises, no blood leaking from his nose or lip busted from him biting it on accident. No, when Din looks he's unmarked, no bruises scattered over his skin despite the hard, close range impact of blaster shots. He glances back up at himself, brows pinching, and finds himself touching the side of his throat, tracing over the small spot on his neck where Luke had touched.

It had burned like a brand over Din's skin when Luke had reached out, but now Din felt nothing. No heat, no overwhelming sensation. Just fingers on his neck, as clinical as the rest of his cursory touches have ever been. Din gets himself under the water without anymore staring, shaking himself and focusing deliberately on the sensation of water pattering over his back as he scrubs at his hair. It only lasts for a few minutes before his fingers skim over his neck again. His thoughts drift again to the warmth of Luke's fingers, the concern and worry Din had seen in Luke's eyes when Din had pulled away. He didn't know  _ why _ he'd pulled away- Luke had touched him before, had touched him a thousand times, but somehow touching his neck had seemed different. Or maybe that was just Din's brain, hopped up on adrenaline, reacting in a way he didn't need to.

Din would have to get Luke to touch him again to figure out what was going on.

He's in his underwear, perched on the couch and scrubbing away at the t of his visor when the door opens, Luke sweeping through with the same careful confidence that carried him anywhere. The door swings shut without a touch from Luke, and Din perks up at the smell of food, stomach rumbling. 

Luke's lips quirk in a smile, and he stops, regarding Din near naked on the couch, beskar scattered around him. Din readies himself for a joke, some kind of rib, but all he gets is Luke coming over and bending to place a kiss in his hair, passing a bowl over to him.

Din tries not to wrinkle his nose, but Luke catches him anyway, scowling playfully and rolling his eyes. "Tillie saved us some. Promise I didn't do anything other than heat it up."

The relief must show on his face because Luke lets out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "Thank you. Did everyone get to sleep?"

"They're fine. Tillie ran them through drills until their eyes crossed, so most were dead on their feet."

"Hm." Din digs into the food, finds that it's… better than anything he's made, and finishes it in record time. He still has the nooks and crannies of his chest plate to clean, and now that Luke is home, less time to do it in. So he focuses on that, instead of the way that Luke's throat bobs when he swallows, or the way that he curls up in the only chair not adorned with Din's armor, legs tucked underneath him and whole body slumped back. He ignores the way that Luke watches him, blue eyes bright, and purposely doesn't react when their eyes meet, breaths hitching and air crackling around them.

"Tell me what you're thinking." Din blurts out, if only to break the tension between them. "You have that- look."

"Look?"

"Like you're up to no good." Din mutters, looking back down at his armor and scrubbing at a stubborn pool of dried blood. Luke's hum is decidedly mischievous, and Din shivers when he hears Luke stand. He doesn't look up as beskar goes floating away, but then Luke is pressing against his side, robes soft against his skin as his nerves prickle with awareness. He's deliciously, distractingly warm, but Din drowns out the feeling in lieu of scrubbing a bit harder. He's still scrubbing when Luke's lips find the soft skin right behind his ear, and Din's vision crosses as the brush skids over the front of his armor. Luke's lips curve against his skin, pleased, and his voice is hushed as he brushes his lips over the shell of Din's ear.

"I'm thinking about how you took down an entire group of people without a scratch.” He can feel his cheeks heating when Luke’s breath ghosts over him, shivering when Luke places another kiss at the soft spot under his ear. “How lucky I am that you’re here, with me. That you chose me.”

“How lucky?” Din doesn’t know if Luke is  _ lucky _ persay, not with his reputation and the past hanging around him like a shroud, but Luke has always taken it in stride. 

Like he does now, as Luke’s lips find the side of his neck, hot and urgent, and Din’s mind shorts entirely. He doesn’t hear the noise that he makes, brush clattering from his hands, all he can focus on is the singing of his nerves. The careful pressure of Luke’s lips, trailing over his neck as Luke presses impossibly closer and mouths at the line of his pulse. Din can’t keep his eyes open- his own touch, not nearly long enough ago hadn’t done this- hadn’t wrung this  _ heat _ from him the way that Luke did, and he gasps in surprise when Luke’s teeth scrape lightly over his skin and he sees stars. 

Faintly, he’s aware that Luke is talking- his lips move against his skin, and he can make out some of the words, but there’s fire in his veins and a buzzing in his ears, and he doesn’t know how he could possibly focus. Luke’s hand finds his thigh, teasing along the edge of his underwear, tracing over the seam as if it’s the last thing on his mind. 

“The luckiest man alive- seeing you fight, seeing you  _ protect _ us-”

“You’re my family-” Din gasps out, as if that’s enough of an explanation. It is, really it is- there is  _ nothing _ that Din wouldn’t do if it meant protecting the foundlings, protecting  _ Luke _ . 

Luke hums against his skin, pleased, and the vibrations shoot straight to Din’s cock, the heat somehow ratcheting up further. He feels sticky with sweat already and he hasn’t even  _ done _ anything- he’s only melted back into the couch while Luke’s lips wandered, finding sensitive spots and nibbling at them until he’s squirming for want of  _ more _ . He chokes out something that he’s sure is supposed to be Luke’s name- it comes out more like a garbled plea, and then the beskar chestplate is flying from his lap, landing with a soft clink wherever the rest of his beskar has been tucked. Din tries to follow the movement, tries to open his eyes, but Luke is crowding into his lap, pants scratching against his sides as Luke’s knees dig into the cushions around his hips. 

His hands come up immediately, grabbing at any part of Luke he can find, and the noise that groans from him when Luke’s hand finds his hair and tugs is low, rough. Luke dips to kiss the noise from his lips, tongue tracing over his lower lip before lapping into Din’s mouth. Din lets himself be swept away in the careful curling of Luke’s tongue, in the way that he tastes, in the way that he  _ groans _ when Din sucks on his tongue, just to be a tease. 

He’s finally managed to open his eyes by the time that Luke leans back, and he openly admires Luke’s flushed cheeks, his spit slicked lips and the half vacant expression on his face. Luke’s hand slips from his hair, moving to cup his cheek, and Din shudders at the skin to skin contact, at the warmth and power radiating from Luke’s palm like an afterthought. He’s never been particularly sensitive, never been able to do anything of what the others could, but this close, this wild, Luke practically vibrates with his power. 

“You’re gorgeous.” Din breathes, leaning into Luke’s palm and twisting his head to kiss at the soft inner skin of Luke’s wrist. “ _ I’m _ the lucky one- you saved us, more than once. You still do. You gave me a home- you gave me my son-”

“He was always yours.”

“ _ I’m _ yours.” Din promises, as if the mudhorn hanging from Luke’s neck, beskar warm against his skin isn’t proof enough. As if the mudhorn curling on Din’s pauldron, tattooed on his skin isn’t proof enough of who he belongs to. 

Luke stares at him for a moment, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing, what he’s hearing, and Din presses his lips to Luke’s skin, hand coming to cover Luke’s as he nips lightly, letting his teeth scrape over the sensitive skin. Luke’s answering gasp is music to Din, and he isn’t expecting when Luke’s hand slips back again, fingers threading in his hair before grabbing tight. An embarrassingly loud keen slips from his lips before he can choke it back as Luke pulls his head back, exposing the column of his throat for Luke’s lips to explore.

Luke’s tongue flicks out against his pulse point, high on his throat, and Din shudders. He places a soft kiss there, just a brushing of his lips, and Din groans. He  _ bites _ , teeth digging in, and Din’s hips lift off of the couch entirely, body a razor wire and breaths ragged as Luke stays firmly in his lap. His hand tightens in Din’s hair, pain edging along with the pleasure slamming against the base of his skull, and he has to force himself not to dig his fingers in until he leaves bruises. 

“ _ Please _ -” He begs, up on some unknowable edge, hands scrabbling at Luke’s clothes as the other man finally releases his neck, tongue sliding along the harsh indents of his teeth as Din pants raggedly. His tongue dips into the small hollow that his canines have left, close to having broken skin, and Din nearly comes right then, whining and tugging Luke closer. 

Luke’s lips resume their torturously slow trail over his neck, carefully avoiding the bruise blooming on his neck even as Din whines and arches his neck willingly. “My shirt.”

“Mh?”

“My shirt, Din.” It takes Din a stupid moment to understand what he’s asking, but once he does Din’s fingers find the buttons of Luke’s shirt, fingers clumsy with the way he’s shaking. It takes him far too long with the way that Luke occasionally scrapes his teeth over Din’s neck, making his mind blur all over again, and by the time he’s finally gotten the buttons done Luke is grinding lazily down against him. Not against him fully, no, just a faint brush as Luke very pointedly grinds up against his belly, careful of how much attention he’s giving. 

Din nearly loses his mind at the heat of Luke in his lap, so close yet barely touching him, and Din is a bit rougher than he means to be while tugging Luke’s shirt up and off. It goes flying somewhere in the direction of one of the armchairs- he doesn’t particularly care where, and Luke only laughs at his enthusiasm. He finds himself grabbing at Luke’s ribs, holding him close just to feel the warmth that always seems to radiate from him- it’s miserable during a heatwave surely, but somehow Din can’t seem to get enough of it, not even edged in sweat the way that he is. 

“Can I try something?”

“Hm?” He seems to have lost the ability to talk somewhere in between Luke climbing in his lap and biting him, and even now as Luke stills, leaning back to look at him, his throat still refuses to move. 

Luke’s eyes are focused on Din’s face, searching for something, and Din is still trying to ask him what when Luke moves, hand slipping from his hair to his neck and other hand pressing against his groin as fingers press into the bite that Luke has left. Din’s hips lift of their own accord, cock twitching, and Luke’s grin is triumphant and predatory all in one. He has the intense thought that Luke is going to consume him if the heat in his blood doesn’t first. 

“So sensitive.” Luke murmurs, voice velvet, and Din’s hips jerk again when Luke brushes his fingers over the indents in Din’s skin. Luke keeps his hand away just enough that when Din rolls his hips up he gets only the barest of friction, and a whine builds and builds in his chest. “Could you make a mess just like this? Just feeling my teeth on your skin?”

“ _ Fuck- _ ” It’s the first word that Din has said in at least twenty minutes, and Luke laughs quietly, humming and dipping to indulge himself. His lips find the unmarred side of Din’s neck, teasing along the skin there, and he’s grabbing at Luke’s hips, pulling him close without a thought.

“Or maybe you want more? I’d give it to you- you were so  _ good _ for me today- would you be good again?”

“Anything-” He chokes out, throat bobbing as he swallows, Luke’s lips following the movement before they curve into a vicious, pleased smile. 

“What if I wanted to open you up, kiss this pretty neck while you sat in my lap?”

“ _ Please _ -” Din wheezes out again, because it’s the only thing that he can think to say. The only thought that’s in his mind anymore is Luke, warm against him- his thighs around Luke’s hips, dragging him deeper, keeping him close, caging him in as Din-

The sound of Luke’s breath hitching, catching in his throat drags him to an awareness that he’s projecting a little strongly, but Luke’s fingers drag over the curve of his cock, pressing against the head, and Din bucks up to chase the sensation. 

“Go get the lube.” Din snorts out a noise of protest- he’s not even sure he can  _ walk _ straight, let alone make it to the bedroom and back- but Luke isn’t giving him much of a choice. He slips from his lap, sitting with his legs spread on the other side of the couch, and Din wants nothing more than to be between those thighs, to bite a line up closer and closer and watch the way that Luke’s expression would change. He watches now as Luke’s eyes darken, as his lips part just slightly, breaths coming faster as Din’s eyes rake over the white blaze of lightning over Luke’s chest and arms. “Din?”

Din rises from the couch on only slightly shaky legs, silently begging his knees not to give out as he turns and stiffly makes his way over to the bedroom a few paces away. Further away from Luke, from the blue of his eyes and the heat of his skin, Din’s own arousal drops to a manageable simmer, pressing at his skull and pooling in his belly. The lube is where it always is- tucked away in the nightstand on Luke’s side of the bed, but it takes Din a moment to collect himself when he grabs it. 

The arousal simmering flares back to an inferno at the sight that greets Din when he comes back- Luke, bare chested and fly open, lazily palming the hard line of his cock and head tipped back against the couch. His eyes go to the graceful ivory curve of Luke’s throat, unmarked and slick with sweat. His legs shift wider, hips pressing forward, and Din is moving before he can stop himself. The lube drops onto the couch, rolling to bump against Luke’s hip, but all Din can think about is getting his hands, his  _ mouth _ on Luke, and he drops to his knees between Luke’s legs without regard to the way the wood digs into his skin. 

Luke’s legs spread wider around his shoulders, boxing him in, and Din bats Luke’s hand away as he holds Luke by the root and leans to swirl his tongue around the head. The startled, pleased noise that rushes from Luke’s throat is heaven, and Din glances up as a hand falls to his hair, hips pressing up as Luke seeks the warmth of his mouth. He doesn’t push far, just urges Din to take the head into his mouth, but Din hums, dragging his tongue over the underside and trying not to smile when Luke’s hips lift involuntarily. 

Luke’s fingers curl in his hair, gripping tight, and he manages to scratch out a wrecked, “Too good to me-”

Din slips off of Luke’s cock for a moment to fish for the bottle of lube, and he shivers when Luke tugs on his hair, whining. Din kisses at the head apologetically, but he’s focused on lubing his fingers without spilling half the bottle, and only once he’s done so does he take Luke back into his mouth. His elbow digs into the meat of Luke’s thigh, probably uncomfortable, but Luke doesn’t protest, merely sighs when Din’s lips are back around him. It’s a little hard to focus this way, and the angle is a bit odd, but Din manages, slipping a finger into himself with a small whine as Luke’s hips roll lazily. 

He loses himself in the feeling of Luke rocking against his tongue, lazy and relaxed as his finger presses up inside of himself, much more insistent than Luke would have been. Thinking about the slow, teasing curl of Luke’s finger makes a bolt of arousal go down his spine, and he moans around Luke, bobbing his head and whining when he slips a second finger in. The stretch is a welcome distraction, the edge tempering his own overwhelming arousal, and Din gasps, nearly choking when his fingers brush over his prostate on an awkward uppass. 

“Right there- focus on it, Din.” Din can feel himself throb at the command, and he has half a mind to deny Luke, to deny himself, but Luke’s thumb smoothes over his bottom lip, fingers brushing over his jaw, and he pulls off to moan as his fingers curl. His hips jerk, lips parting in a silent gasp, and Luke’s thumb pushes against his tongue, Din’s lips closing as he sucks. He rubs harder, thighs shaking, and doesn’t stop until Luke smiles, thumb rubbing over Din’s teeth to feel the sharp edge as he speaks. “Enough. C’mere.”

Din licks at the pad of Luke’s thumb one more time before Luke pulls his hand away, and he rises on shaking legs, pulling his fingers out and shuddering when Luke reaches to tug his underwear down and off. Once he’s bare, skin prickling with the breeze that sweeps through the house Luke tugs him forward, gathering him into his lap. 

He feels both simultaneously exposed in Luke’s lap, thighs spread, and protected when Luke’s hands settle on his hips, tugging him a bit closer. He sinks into Luke’s warmth, pressing their chests together and sighing when one of Luke’s hands smooths up his back, the other fumbling beside them. Din is both expecting and not expecting the slick press of Luke’s fingers, and he groans, legs spreading wider as Luke slips two fingers into him. His fingers are a bit slimmer, but a bit longer, just enough that when  _ Luke _ curls his fingers, rubbing at a familiar angle he hits it dead on the first time.

Din shakes in his lap, hands grabbing at Luke’s shoulders and nails digging crescents into his skin. “Mhm.” 

It’s all Din can force past his lips, but Luke hums, leaning forward to place a warm, fond kiss against Din’s sternum as a third finger presses up into him. His breath catches, stuttering out of him, and Luke places more kisses along his chest as slowly, achingly, Din relaxes around his fingers, hips rocking back when Luke crooks his fingers again. Luke works him like he has all night, all the time in the world, and Din was ready a finger ago but he- he likes this. He likes the idly, loving way that Luke nuzzles his chest, placing kisses wherever his lips are drawn. 

It’s intoxicating, knowing that Luke is so wholly enamored with him, and he realizes with a jolt and a groan that Luke has worked him up so thoroughly, so completely that Din is teetering on the edge, eyes blurry and back arching without his knowledge. He opens his mouth to protest, to warn him, but all that comes out is a cry of Luke’s name as his hips seize, pleasure and heat flooding through him as he spills against Luke’s stomach. Luke shudders under him at the sensation, breathing rough, and Din’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

“Sorry I-”

“Don’t you dare.” Luke breathes, surging up to kiss the apology from Din’s lips. He murmurs against Din’s lips, voice rasping from his throat as he slips his fingers out, lowering Din so that he can grind up against him. He twitches every time that Luke's cock slides against his rim, oversensitive, but Luke doesn't press him. "Never have to be sorry."

"I wanted to-" he cuts off, embarrassment washing through him, but Luke's free hand smoothes up over his hip, thumbing tracing the ridge of bone.

"Din," Luke murmurs, face soft and eyes filled with such love that he feels like his heart could burst just looking at his husband. "That was the hottest thing I've seen all day. More so than you on your knees, even."

"Yeah?" He whispers, gingerly rocking his lips back and gasping when the head briefly catches before Luke slides past. "What about this?"

He brings a hand up to touch the side of his neck, at the dark bruise Luke has left, and watches, delighted, as Luke's eyes lose focus. While he's distracted Din grabs for the bottle of lube, uncaring of how much is in his palm as he struggles to squeeze some out. "That-"

"You left that on me. I'm  _ yours _ -" Din lifts his hips a bit, hand wrapping around Luke, and Luke shudders underneath him, hips shifting. "I want you to do it again. I want to watch it fade and then beg you to put it back-"

"Fuck, I would- give you as many as you wanted-"

"Wherever I wanted?" Luke nods, gasping, and Din kisses at the edge of his jaw as he holds him steady and begins to sink down. Luke's hands find his hips, grabbing hard at him, and though he's still oversensitive, and his shoulders have begun to ache again, Din sinks down and down, until he's flush in Luke's lap, voice shaking as Luke buries his face in Din's shoulder and wraps his arms tight around Din's middle. "If I asked for you to leave them on my chest?"

"Wherever."

"My hip?" Luke groans. He feels his lips curl in a satisfied smile as Luke twitches inside him, breath held to listen to Din. "What about my thighs? Would you leave them there?"

Luke's hips lift of their own accord, pressing him deeper, and Din shudders in his lap. "Fuck- fuck sorry are you-"

"Don't apologize- just fuck me. Please?" 

Luke's answering groan vibrates through Din's chest where they're pressed together, and Luke's lips find his as he begins to move. His thrusts are slow, shallow at first as Din gasps and twitches at each sensation, but as Din melts against Luke's chest, breaking away to press his face into Luke's hair to muffle his sounds, Luke grows bolder. He holds Din a bit tighter, arms an iron bar across Din's lower back as he holds him in place, fucking up into him as his lips trail over Din's neck again. Luke's earlier words echo in Din's head, bouncing around with growing intensity as Luke's hips buck, tilting to change the angle, to press himself deeper. 

Din revels in the muted little sounds against his skin, the shuddering of Luke's breaths and the moans of his name that he's rewarded with when he rocks his hips down to meet Luke. He's twitchy and raw with overstimulation, but he wants this more than he cares about the shocks that go through him every time that Luke presses up.

"Mm- Din I'm-" Luke's hips stutter, rhythm haphazard, and Din hums, grinding his hips back. Luke's tongue flicks against Din's pulse, tasting the sweat that lingers there, and Din feels himself twitch. Which is-

Din laughs, not because Luke has done anything, but because he can't quite wrap his head around the fact that he's  _ hard _ again. Somehow, impossibly, in the time between Luke rocking into him and his lips on Din's neck, the overstimulation has warmed into something else. It thuds along his spine, nerves singing, and when Luke's teeth find the already painful mark on his neck Din's back arches uselessly, chest pressing against Luke's

The moan that vibrates through Luke's teeth into Din's neck is so overwhelming that Din loses the ability to see for a minute, eyelids fluttering and hands grasping weakly at Luke wherever he can reach. He shifts his hips, trying to meet with Luke’s thrusts, but pain shoots through his stomach, his shoulders, and Din groans, sagging in his lap a bit. Luke’s hands smooth over Din’s back as he slows, and Luke pulls back to look at him.

“I’m fine- just sore.” He reassures, rocking his hips even when his muscles protest the movement. Luke’s hands fall to his hips, stilling his movement, and his eyes are impossibly soft. 

“Do you need to stop?”

He shakes his head immediately- the last thing he wants to do is stop, not with Luke hard and hot inside him, and he traces his palms over the slopes of Luke’s shoulders. “Not sore from you. From the fight.”

“Getting old?” Luke is teasing, Din knows, but he tightens around him in retaliation anyway, watching the way that Luke’s pupils blow wide, black swallowing the blue of his eyes. Luke’s arms go back around Din, holding his close as they tip to the side. They twist, Din’s back hitting the cushions, and he settles as Luke’s weight presses him back. One of his thighs is pinned awkwardly between the back of the couch and Luke’s hip, but Din hitches it higher, heel bumping over the back of Luke’s thigh as he sinks into the new position. Luke rocks his hips experimentally, testing the waters, Din groaning and grabbing at Luke’s ribs. “Better?”

“Much-  _ fuck _ -” Luke’s arms are propped on either side of Din’s head, caging him, but he’s never felt so  _ safe _ . Safe enough that he can throw his other leg up, locking his ankles behind Luke’s back and dragging him down until their hips are pressed flush. His husband groans above him, shoulders shaking, and he smiles, choking on a needy whine when Luke’s hips press up and up, so deep that Din aches at the thought of him pulling back. “C’mon- want it-”

“I know- you’re so tight, so warm. I’ll never get used to this.” Luke’s words send a dizzying rush of heat through Din’s mind, leaving him spinning, and he gasps when Luke eases back into his rhythm, hips pistoning and driving weak, wordless noises from his lips every time they come back together again. 

There’s something in this embrace, Luke dipping to press their foreheads together, that soothes something in him. His back is pressed very firmly into the couch, protected, and Luke is on top of him, back to the door, and Din knows that he can let go. That he can wrap his legs around Luke, enjoy the other man fucking his brains out with little thought for anything else. The power alone that radiates from Luke is enough to keep any wildlife away, and after Din’s display in town, he doesn’t think he has to fear anything. Not tonight at least.

So for tonight, Din arches up against Luke, drags his nails over lightning scarred skin, and begs him for release. Begs Luke to push him over the edge, to fall over the edge himself, to mark him until all Din sees in the morning is the bruises that Luke has left. The marks of their time together, of how much Din trusts him,  _ loves _ him. 

Luke’s lips find his collarbone, teeth grazing, and his hips stutter as he teases out a mark, letting lips and tongue and teeth bloom it into existence. Sharp, clever teeth trail over his skin, leaving bite after bite, red-purple marks that Din is going to stare at later as Luke’s own thrusts grow more insistent. “Luke- so close, please?”

“Touch yourself.” It sounds more like a plea than a command, and when Din opens his eyes, finds Luke staring, his eyes are desperate, tears gathering in his lashes. He reaches up with one hand, cupping Luke’s cheek and guiding him down so that their lips can meet as Luke moans against his mouth.

His other hand slips between them, wrapping around his cock, and his hips lift off the couch, Luke’s hands catching him easily to keep up the angle as Din cries out against his mouth. He’s blindingly, achingly close, and his thighs squeeze tight, Luke fucking harder even with the resistance, and he tastes Luke’s moan, feels it reverberate over his lips and his tongue when Luke’s hips slam home, warm flooding him as Din strokes himself, once, twice, and comes between them again. Overstimulation flares into pain much quicker this time, but Din rocks his hips up, working Luke through, and goes boneless only when Luke slumps, panting raggedly against his lips. 

He wipes his hand on Luke’s side, lips twitching in a smile when Luke makes a slightly displeased sound, but the sound melts into a pleased rumble when Din cups Luke’s face in his palms. He holds him close, thighs stubbornly locked around Luke’s hips as he kisses him, sweet and lazy. It’s all too easy to kiss him, to press their lips together as Luke slowly, slowly sags against him, resting more and more of his weight against Din. Din takes it, back pressing into the couch, and doesn’t protest at all. Well- he protests a little, wheezing and murmuring against Luke’s lips. “You’re crushing your husband.” 

“He’s strong, he can handle it.” Luke mutters back, lips curving in a smile when Din scoffs, shoving playfully at his hips and gasping when Luke shifts inside him. A hand dips, smoothing over Din’s hip, and he relaxes slowly under Luke’s touch. “You okay?”

“Wouldn’t object if you carried me to bed.”

“No shower?”

“I can’t walk.” He deadpans, laughing when Luke’s cheeks flush. “Bed?”

“It’s pretty early.” Luke muses, mischief in his eyes, but Din is having none of it, grabbing at the back of Luke’s neck and dragging him in for a hard, searing kiss. Luke melts against him for a moment, forcing the air from his lungs, and when he pulls back he nods, eyes hazy. “Bed time.” 

Din was only half joking about being carried, but Luke carefully pulls out, and then before a mess can be made of the couch, hoists him up into his arms. He yells at the unsteady feeling of being suspended in air, but Luke looks entirely too smug as he pads out of the living room, down the hall, and to the bedroom. He makes a detour into the bathroom briefly to get a washcloth, and Din idly wipes at his stomach and chest as Luke maneuvers them back into the bedroom. He’s gotten himself mostly clean by the time Luke drops him onto the bed, and he laughs quietly, chest warm with the sound as he takes in the sight of Luke standing, skin glowing. 

It might be a bit mushy to think, but it’s partially true- Luke is flushed with color, warm and happy, and Din doesn't think he’s ever seen someone so bright- so vibrant. Luke waits patiently until Din is done before taking the washcloth, disappearing back into the hall to get rid of it. Din makes himself comfortable in the meantime, laying on his side with his front to the door as he relaxes. His eyelids droop despite his want to stay alert, and he misses completely when Luke comes back, light flipping off and climbing under the covers. He rouses briefly when Luke nudges him onto his other side, but it’s only so that Luke can press against his back, draping an arm over his waist and pressing his face into Din’s hair. He falls asleep with Luke warm against his back, breaths ghosting over his neck and shoulder.

He wakes up sweating, though the sun hasn’t broken the horizon yet, and he peels away from Luke with a soft groan. Luke doesn’t react when Din slips from bed, merely rolls over onto his stomach and buries his face in Din’s pillow. His chest aches with affection at the sight, and he retreats to the ‘fresher before he can crawl back into bed. He goes about his business quickly, or intends to, turning the water on and pausing when purple catches his eye. 

He drifts back to the mirror, and stares at his reflection, his own eyes, dark and lit from within with some contented kind of warmth staring back. The bite on his neck, high up toward his chin has bloomed overnight, and Din can see each individual toohmark, encircled by purple and red. There are smaller marks on the other side of his neck, just little red marks that have begun to fade, but the longer Din looks, the more he finds. They scatter across his chest, over his collarbones, anywhere that Luke had been able to reach. He reaches up to touch one, expecting pain, but instead his skin only tingles. 

His mind drifts to what they mean, the possession and love within each one. The one on his neck is the worst, the one that set everything off, and he finds himself smiling for no reason at all. He forces himself to get into the shower, letting the water wash over the marks, his skin stinging with the heat, craving the sensation. He’s still thinking when he steps out of the shower, toweling off and rubbing it over his hair before padding naked into the hall. He’s got the towel against his head, half obscuring his sight when he steps into the bedroom.

The sight that greets him is more stunning than the sunrise, breathtaking, and Din drinks it in, eyes roaming over the soft expanse of Luke’s skin. He’s still on his stomach, pillow clutched under his chin and sheets pooled around his hips. Din eyes the graceful curve of his spine, and he walks over, bracing a knee on the bed as he bends to trace that curve with his lips, smiling when Luke shivers, sighing out a happy little noise as he turns his head to peak at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Good morning.” He whispers, placing another kiss on the sharp point of Luke’s shoulder blade as Luke hums.

“Mornin.” His voice is husky, rough with sleep, and Din leans up without a thought to kiss him, Luke going up on an elbow to make it easier. Luke sighs against his lip, other hand coming up to touch at his jaw, holding him in place with a reverent touch. Din wouldn’t dare move away, and he leans their forehead together as Luke’s eyes shut, whole body lazy and sleepy. “You shower?”

“Mhm. Sun isn’t up yet.”

“Come back to bed then.”

“Someone has to be up for the foundlings.”

“Our  _ kids _ will be fine. Come back to bed.” There’s that ache again- he wonders if his heart could stop from how happy he is, but he doesn’t want to chance it. Instead he merely murmurs, teasing.

“You’ll miss meditation.”

“Din?”

“Hm?”

“Fuck meditation. Come back to bed.”

Din pauses, grinning, and pulls back so that Luke can see him shrug before he tosses his towel and climbs back into bed. “You’re the Jedi Master.”

Din doesn’t fully hear Luke’s reply, too busy laughing, but he thinks that Luke mutters something like ‘damn straight’ before pulling Din down into his arms, pillowing his head on his chest and humming happily. 


End file.
